


healing his wounds.

by atlesianic



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rewrite, Sexual Abuse, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlesianic/pseuds/atlesianic
Summary: based on a request from tumblr: tyrian earns a dose of more intimate punishment from salem.reposted from my old account. rewrite will be in the second chapter.I DO NOT CONSENT TO THE REPOSTING OF MY WORKS.
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Salem
Kudos: 6





	healing his wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> anything im semi-proud of im gonna be rewriting. anything like that, you can find the new one in the second chapter.

"Remove your clothing, Tyrian. I wish to properly inspect your wounds."

"Yes, my lady."

He's done this so many times before that it's practically routine at this point. His harness is tossed to the side, then his belt and shirt. He sits only for a minute to remove his boots, but he hesitates when his pallid hands rest on his waistband.

"Is something the matter, Tyrian?" Salem asks, her voice cold.

"N-no, your grace. M-my mind was wandering." It's a lie. He knows she can tell. He wastes no more time in removing his pants, tossing the pristine white clothing into a pile with the rest of his uniform. He remain in his underwear, stunted tail curling nervously around his thigh.

" _All_ of your clothing, Tyrian."

He flinches at her harsh tone, but nods and obeys. He feels naked without his underwear, and not simply because of the lack of clothing. He feels like his entire being has been stripped away, as if Salem can see the blood pumping through his veins, see every hair upon his being. He feels like a specimen, not a person.

But still he stands straight.

Salem approaches him with a blank expression. Cold, clawed hands trail along Tyrian's scarred chest as she circles him. She shivers, but he doesn't dare to move away from her hands.

"What a shame that one of my bet warriors was bested by a child," she spits, claws dragging down his back at the offending word. Tyrian whimpers, but remains as still as possible. "I expected more from you. On your knees, insect."

He falls to the floor with a thud, his tail going limp behind him. His jaw hangs open, lips quivering from tears not yet shed. Salem's clawed hand sinks into his hair and yanks his head back, forcing him to look at her.

"You have failed me once again, Tyrian. How do you expect to make up for it this time?" Tyrian tries to stutter out a response, but Salem yanks him onto his back. "Silence! Did I say you could speak?!"

Salem moves once again, this time halting in front of Tyrian. Glistening golden eyes stare into the vaulted ceiling; he doesn't dare look her in the eye like this. Tyrian gasps in shock and pain when he feels something cold pressing against him, sharp heel digging between his thighs. The icy chill of Salem's shoes against his most sensitive skin almost burns. He grits his teeth to prevent another noise from escaping him.

"You failed to capture the Spring Maiden. You failed to capture the silver-eyed child. You failed to kill Qrow Branwen!" Skin breaks--he knows it does, because the burning cold is suddenly painfully warm.

"But I--I poisoned him! I know I did!" he sputters, tears stinging his eyes. "There's no way he could have survived--!"

Salem is a blur of white and black in his peripheral vision, and the brief relief of her heel leaving his crotch is quickly replaced by a trio of clawed fingers being shoved into him. He tries to bite his tongue, but he roars in agony. He's sure the others can hear him. They've likely heard him every night for the last thirteen years.

"He survived, Tyrian!" Salem shrieks. "And you have disgraced my name for the last time! Tyrian... are you still loyal to me?"

"Yes!" he whimpers, nails digging into the floor.

"You swore your heart, mind, body, and soul to me. Do they still belong to me?"

"Always!"

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course!"

Her hands are pulled from within Tyrian, then promptly shoved between his lips. He tastes his own fluids, tastes blood. The skin beneath his tongue breaks and he loses track of where the blood came from to begin with.

"Tyrian--cum for me. That's an order."

He smiles, even with her cold fingers in his mouth. If he could speak, he'd likely whisper, _yes, of course my goddess, anything for you_. His tail wraps lamely around his thigh, cold plates rubbing against his pained sex. His own appendage is hardly as cold as her hands, but he closes his eyes and pretends she's the one making the pain go away. He imagines her voice in his ear, moaning, whimpering, singing praise after praise. When he finally cums, it's an explosion of unbearable pain and unbelievable pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head, his bleeding tongue lolls from his mouth around Salem's soaked fingers, and the throne room is filled with screams of a different variety.

Salem pulls her hand from Tyrian's mouth and stands. She motions for him to sit up, and he shakily obeys. His cheeks are purple, his chin covered in saliva and blood. His thighs are soaked with slick cum and the faintest hint of the same thick, purple liquid. He smells of sex and copper and salt.

"Clean my hand, Tyrian." Salem holds out her hand, which Tyrian eagerly leans upward to lick clean. Of course, it does nothing for the remainder of the spittle, but he gladly gulps down the blood and cum from her clawed fingers. He reaches up to grab her wrist, but she pulls her hand away. "Enough."

Tyrian sighs, defeated, and falls forward onto his hands. He knows he shouldn't have done that, but--

"Leave me," Salem orders. "You disgust me. I don't want to see you again until you look like a respectable warrior once more." She glares at him, her eyes glowing. "Perhaps then, I'll reward you."

"Yes, my lady..."

He reaches for his clothes, but Salem snaps her fingers. He nods and shakily pulls himself to his feet. He bows, wincing at the pain in his abdomen, and then slowly, carefully exits the throne room.

**Author's Note:**

> http://atlesianic.carrd.co


End file.
